


Sleep Spell

by odiko_ptino



Series: Modern AU [3]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Apollo decides Icarus needs his rest.





	Sleep Spell

One thing that both gods find entertaining is watching Icarus panic his way through his education. Students have always been the same, Apollo thinks: scrambling through practical exercises and tests of knowledge, bemoaning how much there is to know in such little time. To Icarus’s credit, his enthusiasm for his field of study never flags. He always, always wants to know the secrets of the cosmos, to grasp how they turn, to work out a way to be the first human on the sun. His passion for astronomy stays strong – although his will to survive his studies, or life in general, seem to sputter constantly.

Icarus is perpetually in a state of sleep-deprived misery. Stressed, anxious, and depressed all at once. Most of the time he keeps it at bay with his sarcasm, but sometimes… like now…

Apollo is at Icarus’s apartment, having just arrived after setting the sun for the day. Helios is already there, perched on top of the refrigerator, watching with raised eyebrows as Icarus goes through the throes of some kind of meltdown. It seems to be exam-related. He looks exhausted, as usual, and is grimly measuring out more coffee, clearly intending to force himself to stay awake longer.

The boy always does this; always descends into a panic over minor things, lacking an immortal’s sense of eventuality. It’s particularly excessive since Icarus knows his material better than most of his classmates; it makes his insecurity and overreactions look comically ridiculous.

The biggest real obstacle to his success in his studies, is his inability to care for himself properly. Apollo will insist he eat a real breakfast tomorrow. For now, though he doesn’t even greet the boy before he steps over to him, holding up a hand.

“Heed my words…” he begins. Helios looks over at him, sharply.

“…and fall asleep. Be at peace,” Apollo finishes. He quickly puts an arm out and catches Icarus as the boy sags, eyes closing, coffee and spoon dropping to the countertop.

Apollo gathers Icarus up; the boy slumbers on. His eyelids are colored a deep purple with exhaustion. Apollo shakes his head, tutting.

“I’m putting him in his bed. I don’t expect him to wake for at least ten hours. You don’t need to stay around,” Apollo tells Helios.

“Ha! Like I’m gonna let you cheat your way to first place, you cheating shit!” Helios snorts derisively. He hops down off the refrigerator and scampers ahead of them, flinging himself into Icarus’s bed and adopting a suggestive position and leering. “Toss him over here!”

Apollo gives him a withering stare and eases Icarus onto the bed, taking a moment to tug off his shoes and setting them neatly on a nearby chair. He leans over to tuck Icarus’s hair out of his face. The boy shifts slightly, still deeply asleep, and half-turns towards Helios, grasping his arm.

Helios almost has enough time to compose his face into an expression of smug triumph, but at nearly the same moment, Icarus reaches out for Apollo as well, pulling him closer.

Pulling him by the hair, in fact. Icarus’s fingers are latched around the nearest coil of Apollo’s hair and yanking, not particularly gently, pulling Apollo’s face in close.

Helios’ face goes through the expressions of startled, annoyed, and amused in rapid succession. “Well, that’s that. Guess you better climb in too.”

“It seems the decision’s been made for me,” Apollo agrees, trying to fight a happy blush from his face as he disentangles his hair from Icarus’s grip.

He lays himself down next to the two of them, dismissing his clothing with a thought. Icarus audibly sighs in his sleep, wriggling a little as the heat from two sun gods washes over him from either side, warming his bed. Apollo and Helios have each taken one of his hands in one of theirs, touching over the center of the human’s chest, over the beating heart.

“This kid’s greedy,” Helios observes fondly. “A two-god sort of guy. Couldn’t be satisfied with just one or the other.”

“Well, it’s as we’ve seen. Icarus is not lacking in ambition.”

Helios snorts again and for the next eight hours, forty-two minutes and fourteen seconds, they say and do nothing more. They only watch their human sleep. It is not a spectacularly interesting show. Icarus is out; traces of Apollo’s curse still weaving about his skull, keeping him quiet and still, though he occasionally stirs and reaches a hand out, apparently to satisfy his unconscious self that the gods are still there.

After a while, Apollo discovers that blowing gently on Icarus’s neck – the same place where Helios was kissing him to such great effect earlier – causes the boy’s fingers to twitch and his lips to part. The gods give each other a knowing look over the top of Icarus’s head, filing the knowledge away for later when they can use it to maximum mischief. And then, without quite realizing he’s doing it, Apollo is leaning forward to meet Helios’s lips in a gentle kiss, shared over their sleeping mortal.

They smile at each other genuinely for a brief moment, before Helios grins. “Nice! Just the right amount of tongue. All-around good kiss!”

“Now you’re not going to get another one for _two_ decades,” Apollo tells him, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever. You won’t be able to keep lips off of me now that you’ve been reminded what a great kisser I am,” Helios scoffs smugly.

Apollo’s lips twitch in a smirk. “Eos was better.”

The familiar glare graces Helios’s face. “So it’s like that, eh? Fine. I’ll just give Artemis a smooch and compare your technique.”

“Pfft. She’d kick your ass into next week.”

Their squabbling eventually gets lively enough to overcome even the sleep curse, and Icarus awakens, hair mussed and eyes still half-closed. He  
grouchily and groggily throwing in his two cents even while rubbing his eyes, adding to the argument before he even knows what it’s about.

The sun rises late that day.


End file.
